


The Long Way Home

by mjules, xbedhead



Category: Erskineville Kings
Genre: AU of an AU, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-11-01
Updated: 2002-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:29:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjules/pseuds/mjules, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xbedhead/pseuds/xbedhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is set four years after “My Lover’s Gone” and assumes Wace moved back to Erskineville after his time in Queensland with Barky. Inspired by Norah Jones’ incredible song “Humble Me,” written to the sounds of her <i>Feels Like Home</i> album. This is Jen's POV of what happened and the second part will be Wace's.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Razor's Edge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/481778) by [mjules](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjules/pseuds/mjules), [xbedhead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xbedhead/pseuds/xbedhead). 



> This is set four years after “My Lover’s Gone” and assumes Wace moved back to Erskineville after his time in Queensland with Barky. Inspired by Norah Jones’ incredible song “Humble Me,” written to the sounds of her _Feels Like Home_ album. This is Jen's POV of what happened and the second part will be Wace's.

“Dammit,” Jen cursed softly, leaning against the open hood of her car and surveying the inner workings with despair. “Of all the bloody towns to break down in,” she sighed, lifting her head to see the yellow sun gently rising above the horizon. The soft rays filtered through the windows of her dead car, highlighting the smiling rosebud lips of the sleeping child in the back seat.

She was just passing through Erskineville, and had consciously kept to the outskirts of the once-familiar town. She really didn’t know where she was headed, only that she was tired of Canberra and had half a thought of settling down for a while in Brisbane. The only problem with that was that she had to pass by Sydney, and thus, her old hometown. It might not have been so bad if her car hadn’t picked that exact time to break down.

She had driven through the night while Teresa slept in her carseat, and exhaustion was bearing down on her now but her tiredness was nothing compared to the anxiety that fluttered in her belly. It was too early in the morning for Nick’s Garage to be open, and the thought of staying by the side of the road with baby Tessa until the garage opened and then got around to sending a tow truck was not one she particularly relished.

Tessa would be hungry when she awoke, and while Jen had some snacks and finger food for the child, it wouldn’t be a sufficient breakfast, not to mention that Jen herself was feeling the need for a little nourishment. But the only person she could call in Erskineville was nobody she wanted to talk to -- at least, not like this, not after this long.

Her stomach twisted at the old wound, the pain that never seemed to die, even after four years and the amazing joy that was her daughter. Other than Wace, the only people who would be able to come get her were Coppa and Trunny, and calling her ex’s best mates appealed to her even less than calling her ex. She supposed Barky was still in Queensland, and even if he wasn’t, he was Wace’s brother.

Bridget had moved to Melbourne not long after Jen had left town, and she hadn’t been partifcularly close to any of her fellow teachers at the school. She had the brief, ironic thought that if she’d known about this moment five years ago, she would have taken more care to develop relationships in town.

Everything in her rebelled against the thought of calling Wace, of practically crawling to him for help, but one glance at Tessa’s still form in the back seat and she knew she had to swallow her pride, if only for the sake of her child. Steeling her spine against the shudders that rippled through her, the dread that wormed its way into her stomach, she opened her car door and pulled out her cell phone, struggling for a moment to remember a number that had once been more familiar to her than her own.

She dialed and put the phone to her ear, leaning against the outside of the car and gazing down the road in first one direction, then the other. It rang once, twice, and then a loud musical tone sounded, followed by a tinny mechanical voice that stated, “The number you have dialed has been disconnected. Please hang up and--”

She slapped the phone closed in despair, squeezing her eyes shut and dropping her head backwards to rest against the top of the car. “Oh, God,” she groaned. “This is so fuckin’ unfair.” With trembling fingers, she flipped the phone open again and hesitated, scrounging through her memory for a number she couldn’t remember. Finally, she dialed information and waited until the operator came on the line.

“City and listing?”

“Erskineville - Copeland, Daniel.”

“One moment, please.” There was a pause, and then, “I’m sorry, I don’t have a listing for that name.”

“Oh, um - try Blair, Tierney.”

“Tierney Blair, Erskineville New South Wales?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“My pleasure. Connecting you now.”

She waited, feeling her body start to shake with nervousness, and tensed her muscles, trying to bring the involuntary reaction under control. Finally, the connection clicked open, and a gruff voice slurred, “Yeah?”

She froze, her breath disappearing from her lungs like moisture in the desert air. She’d been preparing herself to deal with Trunny, or Coppa, but never in a million years had she thought _he_ would answer the phone.

“Ello?” he demanded sharply, and she could tell he was getting ready to hang up.

“H-hi,” she stammered past her dry mouth.

“Who is this?” he said, but she heard the way his voice had gone suddenly quiet, as if he already knew the answer to his question.

“Wace, it’s... it’s me. It’s Jen.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, then a rustling noise that she recognized as the bunching of cotton sheets. She slammed her eyes against the mental image -- _memory_ \-- of him tangled in the soft white bedclothes on her bed, sweat glistening on his skin...

She swallowed around a lump in her throat and scrambled for words to say to break the silence. “I’m -- I’m sorry for callin’.... so early,” she added, trying to make this the least awkward that it could possibly be. “B-but my car broke down just outside of town and the garage isn’t open yet...”

“Yeah,” he interrupted, and she frowned at the note of resignation in his tone. “Where are you?”

She told him her exact location and he grunted, then said, “Gimme twenty,” and hung up without a goodbye.

Shaking, she closed the phone softly and sank down to the asphalt, resting her head on her knees and trying to just _breathe._

When she heard a car approaching on the otherwise quiet back road, she stood, looking down the road. It wasn’t Wace’s car, and she turned from the road, walking around to the opposite side of the car. She opened the door and started rummaging through all the belongings that were loose in the front seat, tucking them into the duffel bag she’d had them in to begin with. Everything she owned was in that car; everything else had been sold when she left Canberra.

Tessa stirred slightly in the back seat, and Jen murmured softly to her, “Ssh, it’s okay. Mummy’s here; we’re just going to take a ride with a nice man that Mummy knows, and then...” she trailed off as she realized she didn’t know what came after _and then_.

It was all right, since Tessa hadn’t heard any of that anyway, but the pain of uncertainty remained as a knot in Jen’s gut. She frowned, thinking that she was probably lucky she didn’t have ulcers by now. But she’d done a pretty good job of forgetting about what she’d left behind in Erskineville, preoccupied as she was by settling down in her new life and preparing for the child whose appearance had surprised her shortly after her relocation.

She still remembered how she’d awakened her third week in her tiny Canberra apartment, trembling and sweating, and had barely made it to the bathroom in time to lean over the toilet when she vomited. That had been her first indication of Tessa’s presence, and while the child complicated things somewhat, she would forever be grateful to the powers that be for her daughter’s arrival in her life. Tessa had been the only thing that had motivated her to pull herself out of her depression enough to actually survive and make a new life for herself.

Being back in Erskineville, having heard her former lover’s voice on the phone, was eroding all her progress rapidly though, and she fought to focus her energy on something else, like getting everything together that she would not be able to leave with the car so that Wace didn’t have to go through any more trouble than he already was.

A car door slamming startled her out of her busyness, and she jerked upright. The strange car she’d seen coming earlier, that she’d assumed wasn’t Wace’s, was parked just up the road from her and her heart stopped and then restarted with a jolt at the sight of the man walking toward her. Her hands clenched spasmodically on the strap of the duffel bag and she fought down the bile rising in her throat. This was it -- the moment she’d been running from for four years.

He didn’t say a word as he approached her, and she nervously tucked her hair behind her ear, suddenly missing the long, shoulder-length locks that she’d worn back when she knew him. They would have been more useful to hide behind than her current practical chin-length bob. She’d cut her hair after Tessa, not having the time or energy to keep up with a longer style.

“Hey,” she said, and the strain of her voice was evident even to her own ears. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Thanks -- for, for comin’ ta get me. I just couldn’t keep ‘er out here all day...”

His forehead wrinkled in incomprehension for a moment, then he glanced into the car and saw the child in the back seat, and his eyes widened for a moment before his expression carefully smoothed over. She recognized the mask as it slid into place and ducked her head, feeling like the lowest scumbag that had ever crawled out of primordial goop onto land.

“Let’s get you two to a motel,” he said flatly. “I’ll ring Nick and get ‘im ta come tow the car.” He glanced at the open hood, then back at her. “Any idea...?”

She shook her head, fighting for some kind of normal feeling in the midst of all the emotional chaos, looking for an anchor to keep her from getting seasick. She was already feeling nausea rising and swallowed hard to keep it down. “No, it hasn’t given me any problems at all since...”

She closed her mouth with a ‘snap,’ cutting off the rest of that sentence, but the unspoken words lingered heavily in the air. _’Since you fixed it.’_

He nodded, running a hand through his hair, and that small evidence of inner turmoil tugged at her heart. God, she knew she’d hurt him -- she’d never meant to do that. Her eyes turned quickly toward Tessa and her chest tightened with the knowledge that she’d hurt him even more than he knew. She frowned, determined to keep her painful secrets to herself. There was no use in telling him, not now, not when she’d be out of his life again just as soon as her car was running.

“Well, we’ll find out,” he said in a muted voice, and she nodded. “What all do ya need outta here?” he asked, peering into the car as she opened the back door and unbuckled Tessa’s harness, carefully sliding the limp, sleeping body into her arms. The girl shifted and murmured in her sleep, snuggling into Jen’s shoulder, and she noticed how intently Wace watched them.

“Um, just that duffel bag there on the seat,” she said, “And Tessa’s bag out of the boot.”

He nodded and grabbed the duffel out of the front, holding out his hand for the key to the trunk, which she gave him. She was mildly surprised when there were no electric shocks when her skin met his -- only the smooth, clammy coolness of his palm against her fingers.

She hefted Tessa to a more comfortable position and started walking toward Wace’s car, picking her way carefully over the slanted grassy shoulder of the road. He caught up with her before she’d gotten there and opened the trunk of his car, tossing both bags inside and closing it.

“D’ya need her seat?” he asked quietly, indicating the sleeping child in her arms, and she nodded, ashamed at not having thought of that.

He came jogging back quickly, car seat in hand, and she smiled at him stiffly as he opened the door to the back seat, setting the seat in. He paused then, and she peered around to see if she could tell what was giving him trouble.

“I dunno how to fasten it in,” he admitted, and she nodded. She briefly considered asking him to hold Tessa while she did it, but stifled that thought instantly and settled for just giving him instructions.

He managed to buckle the seat in fairly quickly with her help then stepped out of her way as she gently laid the child in and fastened the harness around her small body.

She closed the door gently, then stepped forward and opened the front passenger’s door. She slid in and pulled the seatbelt over her shoulder, clicking it into place just as Wace opened his door and got in. He paused for the barest instant before turning the key in the ignition, and she looked out the window, fighting hard to breathe normally.

To her surprise, he was the first to break the silence, speaking in a voice that strained to sound casual, and she found herself soaking up the familiarity of his tones, something in her soul unwinding just a little, like a dried-up flower that tastes a few tantalizing drops of rain.

“Uh, Brisbane,” she answered after a moment’s hesitation in which she tried to remember how to speak, much less where she was going. “Been in Canberra, and...” she stopped, cursing her tendency to ramble when she was nervous. He didn’t ask where she’d been; he’d asked where she was going. If she didn’t watch herself, she’d end up telling him every detail of the past four years, and he couldn’t possibly want to know. It would bring up too much of the old pain.

He nodded. “I was in Queensland, with Bark,” he said sofly. “Just got back a coupla months ago, moved back in with Copp and Trun.”

She looked at him in surprise, her mouth falling open a little. There was so much missing from that narrative that she just didn’t know where to begin. When she’d left, he’d been practically living at the hospital with his ailing father and his resentment toward his little brother had been so great she couldn’t imagine him possibly living with him for several years.

“Back in...?” she found herself asking, then wondered why that had been the part she’d chosen to question.

“Yeah -- oh, that’s right,” he said quietly, and she looked away quickly at the unspoken, _’You wouldn’t know; you weren’t here.’_ “I, uh, moved in with them after Dad died.”

She blinked in surprise, though she supposed she should have expected that one. The old man had been on death’s door when she was still in town. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, and he looked at her questioningly. “About your Dad,” she added, and he shrugged awkwardly.

“Yeah, well,” he muttered. Silence reigned in the car for long minutes until Jen felt like she was going to be crushed by the tension between them and tried her hand at small talk.

“So, what’re you doin’ now? I mean, are you still at the garage...?”

“Nah,” he said easily, not taking his eyes off the road. “Workin’ with Copp. Construction.”

“Really?” she asked with real interest. “Are ya workin’ on a project right now?” Somehow, she had a hard time imagining him all covered in sawdust rather than engine grease.

“Yeah. We’re buildin’ a church. Real fancy one.”

She shook her head as if trying to make the concepts fit. “Wow,” she said quietly. “Don’t think I ever woulda guessed.”

He shrugged, and she saw a blush creeping over his cheeks and wondered what caused it. “A lot’s changed since --” he stopped before he could say _’since you left,’_ and she found herself getting frustrated with the fact that neither of them were brave enough to actually say out loud what had happened.

Instead of dealing with that, though, she simply asked, “Like what?”

“Well, I don’t drink anymore,” he said, stealing a nervous glance at her face, checking for her reaction. She felt tension coil in her stomach again at the memory of the last time she’d seen him, surrounded by empty bottles... the odd image of amber liquid spilling out of one onto the floor... and the explosive impact of his fist against her face.

She blinked, shaking herself from the reverie, and forced herself to smile at him. “Tha’s good, I’m glad,” she said softly, sincerely.

He nodded, falling silent again, and she picked up the conversation, asking one of the hardest questions that burned in the corner of her mind. She shouldn’t ask him, shouldn’t pry -- it wasn’t any of her business -- but she had to know.

Trying hard to make her voice casual, she asked, “So, you seein’ anybody...?”

He shot her a hard, inscrutable look, and she found she couldn’t meet his gaze. “No,” he finally answered solemnly. She almost expected him to turn the question back on her, but he didn’t, and she found herself wanting him to know.

“Me neither,” she said softly, and his eyes snapped over to her for a moment.

“What about...?” he asked, tossing his head toward the sleeping child in the backseat.

She shrugged, feeling the butterflies beating painfully against the walls of her stomach. “Haven’t seen ‘im in a few years,” she finally answered, and he gave her a non-committal grunt.

Silence spun out between them again, the only sound the tires against the asphalt, until he finally burst out, “What happened?”

She bit her lip, wondering if she should tell him, and how much. Finally, she closed her eyes, screwed up all her courage and whispered, “Wace.... she has your eyes.”

His hands jerked on the steering wheel, sending the car veering into thankfully-empty other lane. “What the fuck!?” he demanded harshly, and she jumped, looking back quickly to make sure his outburst hadn’t wakened Tessa.

He saw the direction of her gaze and consciously quietened his voice, though his tone was no softer when he repeated, “What the fuck does that mean, Jen?”

“I’m sorry, Wace,” she said quickly, quietly. “I didn’t know until... until after. And I didn’t know... I’m sorry, I didn’t think...” Tears were running down her face now and she barely registered the fact that the car was slowing, moving to the side of the road. She heard the click and slide of the transmission as Wace shifted to ‘park’ and closed her eyes, not daring to look at him.

“Jen,” he said firmly, drawing her attention. She still didn’t look, only nodded, indicating that she was listening. “Are you tellin’ me that --” he choked, cleared his throat, started over. “That that’s my -- my daughter?”

“Yeah,” she said, her heart pounding so hard she was certain it was going to burst. “She... I found out I was pregnant about two months after I moved to Canberra.”

He made a small strangling sound and she finally looked at him, knowing that he was doing the math, calculating. It had been the last time they were together, that dark night when he’d been lost in his torment. That had been the first time they’d had sex in over six weeks; it couldn’t have been any other time.

“And you were just gonna... not tell me?” he asked, sounding as if he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the whole situation. “Ever?”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, hiccuping as she began crying harder. “I didn’t think you’d want... I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t think,” she tried desperately to explain, knowing that there really was no explanation or excuse other than her own selfishness and fear.

He blew out a loud breath, and they sat silently for several minutes until a small whimper was heard from the backseat and then a tiny voice murmured sleepily, “Mummy?”

“Hey, baby,” she said, wiping the tears from her face and trying to disguise their presence in her voice. She saw Wace flinch out of the corner of her eye and remembered with a start that she had once called him the same thing.

“Mummy?” Tessa called again, this time sounding more awake. “Mummy, where are we?”

Jen turned around fully in the seat so that her daughter could see her face. “We’re going to a motel, baby,” she answered cheerfully. “The car messed up, so --” she faltered, suddenly unsure of how to identify Wace to her -- their -- daughter and then deciding to avoid the issue altogether for the moment. “So we’re going to a motel until it gets fixed, okay?”

“Kay,” Tessa mumbled, closing her eyes and slipping back into her slumber. Jen envied her the ease with which she faded from consciousness and settled back in her seat, facing forward again.

“What’ve you told ‘er about me?” Wace finally asked quietly, and Jen just shook her head.

“I... I ‘aven’t, really,” she confessed, wishing she could just disappear from this terrible situation. “She’s ... she’s asked, and I never really knew what to tell ‘er... I mostly just told ‘er that you... that you couldn’t be with us.” She chanced a glance at his face through her eyelashes, biting her lip when she saw the hurt and anger flash in his eyes.

He nodded, sucking in a deep breath and then blowing it out again, then put the car in gear and pulled back onto the highway.

***

She stood outside the door of the motel, rolling her neck and gazing up at the night sky and the few stars that she could make out beyond the glare of the street lamps in the parking lot. Wace stood a few feet behind her to her right, smoking a cigarette and flicking the ashes moodily onto the sidewalk. Tessa was asleep on the bed inside, probably sucking her thumb. That was a habit Jen hadn’t been able to break her of just yet and she didn’t have the energy to deal with it tonight.

Wace had gotten the car to Nick’s and shook his head with a hard, ironic laugh when Nick had told him it was the wires -- the same damn wires he’d fixed the first time she’d brought the car into the shop. “Fuckin’ figures,” he’d muttered, and she’d felt her heart clench, knowing that he was somehow viewing the car as a picture of their failed relationship.

“They lasted a long time,” Jen had offered quietly. “Everything falls apart eventually... just needs to be put back together again.”

He hadn’t acknowledged her words, had just walked away, saying gruffly “C’mon. I gotta go to work; let’s get you back to the motel.”

She’d nearly drowned in the onslaught of recollections, the many varied times he’d said that -- _I gotta go to work_ \-- in their relationship. Usually it had been when she was feeling frisky in the mornings, pushing the limits of the clock and their bodies... She’d stopped that train of thought almost before it started, shoving it from her mind.

Now, however, she didn’t have a whole lot of distractions that were being offered to her. Nick had said her car would be fixed by noon tomorrow and she knew this would probably be her last chance to talk to the man behind her before she had nothing holding her in this town. Unless...

“What are you thinkin’?” she heard herself asking, and braced herself for the answer.

“Not much,” he returned after a moment. “Mostly tryin’ to get my head around it all.”

She nodded, plucking at the fabric of her shirt. After a moment, he continued, and it took a moment for the meaning of his words to filter through, his voice was so careless.

“After you left, I tried killin’ myself. Wasn’t your fault -- just, everythin’. Got drunk, drove my car into a bridge.”

She whirled around to face him, but he wasn’t looking at her, focused instead on the cherry ash at the tip of his cigarette.

“It didn’t work,” he said unnecessarily, “but I stayed in hospital for awhile. After I woke up... things were... well, they were different. I went to Queensland with Barky, quit the bottle, made a new life.” He looked up at her then, and the look in his eyes baffled her, though it shot straight to her heart.

“I’m different now, Jenny,” he said quietly, and she felt something inside break with the use of his old pet name for her. “I dunno... I just thought you should know.”

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath through her nose. God, this was all happening so fast -- so much was changing --

“Not that different,” she found herself saying, her eyes opening just in time to catch the deep hurt that flitted across his face. She shook her head, hurrying to finish, “You were always a good man. You still are.” She gave him a half smile that faltered and fell away when he didn’t return it.

“I’m sorry, Wace,” she finally said, and he met her gaze evenly, not giving her anything one way or another. “I’m sorry I left... and sorry I didn’t tell you about Tessa.” She shrugged, tempted to reiterate that she hadn’t known what to do, had barely been able to keep her head above water during that time, but figured it didn’t really matter why she’d done what she had.

He nodded slowly, acceptance showing in his expression.

“So,” he said finally, and she tilted her head questioningly.

”So...?” she prompted when he didn’t continue.

“What do we do now?”

Her eyes went wide with the thought, the leaping hope, that he was suggesting that there was something that _could_ be done -- was he... did he think... did he want...?

“I have a daughter,” he continued. “I can’t just... forget that, ignore it.”

She nodded, feeling suddenly foolish at thinking he could have been referring to rekindling their relationship, then realized that she hadn’t known that was something she’d wanted until just that moment...

”I don’t want you to,” she finally said. A thought settled in her mind, one that had been circling all day, and she finally steeled her spine, swallowed her pride one last time, and spoke it aloud. “I didn’t really have anywhere in particular I was headed in Brisbane. I could -- I could move back here.”

He gave her a searching look, pushing himself away from the wall and tossing the butt of his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it and grinding it out. “You sure that’s somethin’ you could do?” he asked in a low voice, coming closer to her.

She shivered involuntarily, looking away from him for a moment, catching her breath as she caught the lingering smell of smoke on his clothes, barely registering how close he was standing to her.

She couldn’t manage to get her voice working, couldn’t quite answer him, and he finally put a hand under her chin, lifting her face so he could look at her eyes. She was eerily reminded of the times he had done just that, searching for the honesty in her answers.

“Yeah,” she answered finally, though she was anything but. He dropped his hand and took a half step back and she found herself wishing he hadn’t, longing for the touch of his hand on her face once more.

Unconsciously, she took a step forward, taking back the space he’d given up and then some. “Wace,” she whispered, her face close to his, the old longing for him rising up so strongly she felt like her soul was being stripped in the current.

“Jenny,” he said warningly, but he wasn’t exactly running away from her, either, so she took the chance and leaned up on her toes, closing the distance between them. For the briefest moment, he didn’t respond at all when her lips landed softly on his, but then one of his hands went into her hair, tilting her head back, and she moaned deeply when his tongue swept into her mouth.

The palms of her hands ached to touch him and she reached out blindly, one hand finding his stomach and the other sliding up between them to rest on his neck and then slip around into his hair. The fire between them sparked quickly, familiar and strange at the same time, and she could barely catch her breath when he moved his mouth down her jaw to her neck, his free hand sliding low on her back, pressing her against him firmly.

Whimpering, she gave herself to his touch, melting into his arms and closing her eyes against the overwhelming feelings that swept through her. His hand slid under her shirt, up to the back clasp of her bra, and she tucked her face into his neck as he found the fastener and began to work it.

The startling, plaintive call from inside the motel room jerked her from her lustful stupor and she pulled back, suddenly remembering that they were standing outside the motel and that her little girl was inside. “Tessa -- I have to --” she stammered, and Wace nodded his understanding, though the grimace on his face suggested that tthe interruption had jolted him just as badly as it had her.

She ducked inside quickly, getting Tessa the drink of water she was asking for before she straightened her clothes and took a deep breath, heading back outside. Wace was standing in the shadows just outside the ring of light from a street lamp, and she walked out to the edge of the sidewalk.

“Jenny,” he said quietly, without turning to face her. “If you stay...” She held her breath, hoping for and dreading his next words. “I don’t think I can stay away from you.” He turned then, and she could just see his eyes in the dim light. The expression in them took her breath away. “You need to know that before you make your decision.”

She found herself unable to answer, delight and surprise choking her voice, and he eventually continued.

“If you don’t want that... and you still want Tessa to see me,” he stumbled over that phrase endearingly, “I’ll drive up to Brisbane ev’ry now an’ then, you won’t hafta worry about --”

“No,” she blurted, and he paused.

“What?”

“No,” she repeated, shaking her head. “I don’t want you to drive up to Brisbane.” Hurt showed in his face and she rushed to finish. “I don’t want you to stay away from me. Wace -- I know -- I know it wasn’t... it wasn’t easy. I know it won’t be easy if we try this again, but...” she caught her breath, looking away from him for a moment. “But if you think you can... if you wanna... I just...” She looked up, meeting his eyes, and she felt some kind of fire blaze through her when she said, “I can’t stop lovin’ you, Wace. I dunno, I dunno if that’s wrong, or if--”

His mouth on hers cut her off suddenly and she whimpered into his hard kiss. “God, Jenny,” he breathed, pulling away and resting his forehead against hers, his hands gripping her arms tightly. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Her arms pulled free of his grasp and went around his neck as she pressed herself into his body, hiding her tears against his neck. “I’m sorry, Wace,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, Jenny,” he answered shakily into her hair, and her fingers gripped him convulsively. “I love you.”

She pulled back, sniffling and blinking her eyes clear of the tears. “I love you, too,” she whispered, and he kissed her lips softly, chastely, pulling back when she tried to deepen the kiss.

“Jenny,” he whispered, and she could tell from the way his voice trembled that whatever he was about to say wasn’t easy for him. “Maybe we shouldn’t... shouldn’t rush this. Maybe we oughta... take it slow.”

She pulled away from him a little, her arms loosening as she leaned away from him, fighting down her first impulse to be hurt by her thought of what he meant.

“What d’ya mean?” she asked cautiously, and he shook his head.

“It’s not that I don’t want ya, Jenny,” he answered, and the strained look in his eyes testified to the truth of that. “Just... we got a lot to think about right now, a lotta shit to work through. There’s more than just us this time around.” His eyes flickered over the top of her head and she knew he was looking at the room where their daughter was sleeping.

She nodded, stepping away from him and letting her arms fall back to her sides. “You’re right,” she said finally, nodding. This, this very moment, was proof of all he’d said earlier, of how he’d changed, and she found herself feeling a very real hope that things could work this time around. She looked up at him and gave him a smile that he returned.

Tenderly, he leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips, pulling back to murmur, “G’night, Jenny,” his hand trailing over her hair before he turned and walked to his car. She remained on the sidewalk, watching him as he climbed in. He threw up a hand in a goodbye, and she returned the wave with a tiny one of her own. She watched the car until it disappeared into the night, then turned and walked back into the hotel room.

As she prepared for bed and finally climbed under the blankets, curling protectively around the beautiful little girl with her father’s eyes, she let out a quiet sigh and felt for the first time in years as if everything might eventually be okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set four years after “My Lover’s Gone” and assumes Wace moved back to Erskineville after his time in Queensland with Barky. Inspired by Norah Jones’ incredible song “Humble Me,” written to the sounds of her _Feels Like Home_ album. This is Wace's POV of what happened and the first part is Jen's.

He hated waking up to the phone jingling in his ear. 

His hand slapped out blindly several times, eyes plastered shut, before he finally reached the receiver and pulled it off the cradle. "Yeah?" he slurred, his mouth not wanting to cooperate with him that early in the morning. 

Annoyance slid into aggravation as his eyes finally snapped open at the silence on the other end of the phone. "'ello," he tried again, just seconds away from slamming the phone down.

"H-hi."

If he'd been sitting up, his stomach would've dropped.

"Who is ‘is?" he asked, his heart pounding in anticipation of the answer. He knew it was her from the memory of how she breathed into the phone when she spoke.

"Wace it's...it's me. It's Jen."

He felt his hand weaken around the phone and he pushed himself up with a shaky arm to sit on the edge of the bed. His throat felt cut off, tightened to the point where he couldn't speak if he'd had anything to say - he couldn't even breathe for the slightest of moments.

"I'm - I'm sorry for callin'...so early," she continued, thankfully picking up the conversation where he hadn't been able to. "B-but my car broke down just outside of town and the garage isn't open yet..."

Despite himself, his heart sank with every word she spoke. For the briefest of moments, he'd let himself entertain the thought that she'd actually called maybe just to talk to him, to maybe give him the chance to voice that apology he'd never gotten to give, then he realized that she wouldn't have even picked up the phone if she hadn't been desperate for help. Not just his help, but any help.

"Yeah," he answered quickly, hoping to quell the sharp pain that always arose whenever his mind wandered toward anything to do with her. And as much as he wanted to just shout into the phone that she could forget it, that she could find help somewhere else, as much as his hand was aching to just launch the receiver across the room, he asked where she was instead. 

As he listened to her give him the directions, he felt himself get angry that she still had that hold over him. That she still held the power to make him move at the drop of a hat whenever she needed him. 

"Gimme twenty," he said, effectively ending the conversation and focusing on the task at hand before he let his emotions get the best of him. 

He grabbed his pants that had been slung across the bedpost the night before and slipped them on over his legs, walking his way toward the bathroom as he pulled them up. He was moving numbly now, out of routine, because he couldn't let his mind stop and wrap itself around what had just happened. If he did, then it might just be enough to do him in.

It had been hard enough coming back to Erskineville, facing the old town after having left almost four years earlier, but it was something that he'd needed to do. When he left with Barky, it felt like he was starting over, like they were trying to make a new life for themselves, and figure out who they were in the process. But the longer he stayed away, the more he felt like he hadn't belonged out there. As much as he enjoyed spending time with his brother, as much as he loved the strenuous lifestyle that working on the cane farm had afforded him, he still felt as if he hadn't truly found his place.

Erskineville was his home, and no matter what ill feelings it brought up to be back in town, he couldn't deny that his heart was as close to being at peace as it had ever been when he crossed over into the city limits.

Coppa and Trunny had practically dragged him back to the apartment, insisting that he crash with them instead of getting his own place, live like old times minus the ever-present carousing. They'd all done their share of growing up while he'd been gone, and while there were still a few more improvements to be made, Wace could definitely say all the changes had been for the better.

He paused on his way out of the bathroom, keeping his mind from the real reason why he'd actually ran a comb through his short, but unruly, hair by sliding on one of the few clean t-shirts he had still lying in the laundry basket. 

Glancing at the clock on his way out, - purposefully leaving the alarm on as a minor punishment for Trunny and all the commotion he'd caused with Elva the night before - he took note of the time and quickened the pace of his step. He had to hurry if he was going to drive out and pick Jen up, then get her to the garage and make it to site on time. 

The air outside was beginning to warm, the sun making itself known as it peeked out above the worn and hollowed-out buildings that surrounded their 'home.' Taking his keys from his pocket, he slid into the old '88 Delta he'd bought a few months ago and fired up the engine. 

Luckily for him, the drive out to where she'd told him she was stranded wasn't a very long one. Good partly because he could definitely make it to work on time, but mainly because he didn't have as much time as his mind was vying for in order to analyze the situation.

His thoughts turned just as swiftly as the wheels of the car, flitting across questions he wanted to ask her, things he wanted to tell her as soon as he saw her, worries he had about what she might think...about anything, and before he knew it, he was driving past her car.

He pulled off to the side of the road, deciding not to back it up any closer to her – he'd use the time he'd spend walking to calm his nerves a little more, if that was possible. With a flick of his wrist, he cut the engine, pausing for the briefest of moments before he stepped from the car.

He could see her up ahead, digging around in her car for something, having not even noticed him as he drove by. He thought he could do this. He thought he could be strong enough just to see her and get this awkward reunion over with, but with each step, he felt that resolve begin to crumble. 

Just the sight of her, the shift of her shoulders, the curve of her back as it swayed slightly with her movements was enough to awaken long dormant thoughts in his mind. God, how he'd missed her. For the first two years there hadn't been a day that went by that he didn't woken up absolutely longing for the comforting warmth of her body next to his. And it wasn't just her physical presence that he'd craved. It was the completeness that she'd brought to him, the way she made him feel like he meant something whenever she was with him. But as the time lengthened, he'd managed to push that ache to the back of his mind, doing his best to ignore it, treating it like any other hurt in his life.

Her hair was gone, falling just below her chin. He’d noticed that as soon as she straightened, duffel bag in hand. He frowned. She’d lost a lot of weight, too. It wasn’t like she’d had any extra pounds she could afford to lose in the first place. He’d always thought of her as having the body of a dancer – long and lean with strong legs that stretched on forever. Legs that had held him close as –

“Hey,” she said suddenly, thankfully breaking his unexpected train of thought. “Thanks for uh…for coming ta get me. I couldn’t just keep ‘er out here all day.”

Her voice was strained, nothing like the sweet and easy tones he was used to hearing from her. He almost didn’t pick up on what she’d said, but when he glanced into the backseat of the car, it suddenly made sense. 

And it hurt, the pain as palpable as if she’d literally stabbed him in the gut.

For a half-moment, he thought maybe it wasn’t hers, that it was a friend’s – but the soft shape of her face, the dark curls, the long eyelashes resting on pale cheeks… No, this little girl was Jen’s and it made him ache in a way he’d never thought possible. 

“Let’s get you two to a motel,” was the only thing he could think to say. His gears were on autopilot as he pulled his eyes away from the sleeping baby and scanned the length of the car. He was lightheaded. Small talk was what he needed to force through his lips right now or he was going to fall over flat on his face. “I’ll ring Nick and get ‘im ta come tow the car. Any ideas…?” he asked quietly, gaze finally landing on her.

She shook her head, looking about as uncomfortable as he’d ever seen her. “No, it hasn’t given me any problems at all since…”

He mentally completed the sentence and felt a zing of electric course through his veins.

_Since I fixed it…since the day I fell in love with you._

His hand wound its way through his hair and he raked his fingernails over his scalp, hoping the sensation would offset the weight that had suddenly landed in the pit of his stomach. “Well, we’ll find out. What all d’ya need outta here?” he asked, needing to move this reunion to a swift and inevitable close for his own sanity’s sake. There wasn’t a path his mind could take at the moment that would lead to anything good.

He concentrated on Jen’s movements, completely absorbed in the way she so easily pulled the baby from her seat, the motion fluid enough to barely wake the child.

“Just that duffel there on the seat and Tessa’s bag out of the boot.”

He nodded and quickly reached for the bag, feeling his cheeks burn when she caught him staring at her. He took the keys and moved to the trunk, ready to bury his head in the dark and musty depths.

She was several yards ahead of him by the time he’d gathered everything and he found himself hurrying to catch up with her. There was a sharp slope to the shoulder of the road and he stopped himself at the last second from taking her arm to hold her steady. He told himself that it was because she was fine, she’d made it that far with no trouble, ignoring the voice inside that told him she’d flinch away from his touch.

After everything was stowed in the car, he asked, assuming correctly, if she wanted the baby’s seat. As he pulled it from her car, he caught the soft scent of powder, lotion that Jen probably put on the little girl after every bath. He inhaled deeping, giving himself a few seconds before locking the car and trotting back to the Delta. 

He moved to attach the seat, but stopped, suddenly realizing there were quite a few more straps than he’d noted a minute ago. He tried to pull on one of the levers, but stopped after one try – he didn’t want to break it. “I dunno how ta fasten it in,” he said quietly, waiting on her for some type of instruction.

She gave them and he found that it was much more simple than he’d imagined. He slid out of the car, making room for her to put the baby inside. He wandered around the rear of the car, allowing himself a moment to suck some fresh air into his lungs and reign in any emotions that were leaking from his cracking exterior. By the time he shut the door, Jen was already buckled in, facing forward, ready to leave and be done with things.

He started to say something, but stopped himself – she’d turned away from him, focusing on something outside her window. He mentally put himself in her position for a moment – stuck with someone she’d been hurt by so badly she’d run away – and the situation was easy to understand. He just needed to get her to the motel and make sure her car was taken care of. That was all she’d asked of him in the first place and it was the least he could do.

But as he pulled the car onto the empty highway, he found himself wanting, _needing_ , to say _some_ thing to her. In the enclosed space and the silence of the early morning, the tension had ratcheted up several notches and he knew she was probably afraid – of _him._ He didn’t want that, more than anything – even more than having her back, something he hadn’t allowed himself to think of for well over a year.

“Where ya headed?” he finally asked, nearly breathless. His heart was pumping too quickly, siphoning more oxygen than he was managing to suck in.

There was a beat of silence before she answered, her voice sounding reluctant, “Uh, Brisbane. Been in Canberra and…”

She trailed off, having devulged enough information, he assumed. He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and found himself saying, “Was in Queensland with Bark. Just got back a coupla months ago, moved back in with Copp and Trun.”

“Back in?” she asked as he turned, surprised that she’d asked and even more to see her returning his gaze.

He didn’t process what she’d really been asking until he’d already answered. “Yeah, I uh…oh, that’s right. Moved in with ‘em after dad died.”

“I’m sorry,” he heard her say, but it didn’t make sense until she clarified, “about your dad.”

He didn’t know how to respond, so he just shrugged and kept his eyes on the road. “Yeah, well…”

Unsure of what else to say, he racked his brain for some topic to cover, something that was safe, something that she’d even want to talk about. _If_ she wanted to talk. Then again, she probably preferred the silence as opposed to anything he had to say. But he had to say something or his thoughts would wander off to the fact that there was a toddler from his ex-girlfriend’s womb sleeping in his backseat.

But then, she surprised him again by asking, “So what’re you doin’ now? I mean, you still at the garage?”

He almost smiled – maybe she thought the quiet was just as awkward. “Nah. Workin’ with Copp. Construction.”

“Really? Are you workin’ on a project right now?”

He thought he heard a decent amount of interest in her voice and felt his shoulders relax just a fraction of an inch. “Yeah. Buildin’ a church – real fancy one.”

“Wow – don’t think I ever woulda guessed.”

He knew what she meant and how she meant it, but he couldn’t stop the blood from rushing to his cheeks. “A lot’s changed since – ” He stopped, unable to finish the rest of the sentence. And she didn’t need excuses – they both knew the truth.

“Like what?” she asked easily and he found himself scrambling for something substantial, something that would justify what he’d just said. 

So he reached for the most important – to him and, he thought, maybe to her, too.

“Well, I don’ drink anymore.” He had to fight to keep his voice steady and couldn’t stop himself from peeking in her direction.

She said nothing for a long moment and somehow he knew what she was thinking of – the morning that was such a haze to him, save one painful moment of clarity when he’d set fire to everything he had left that meant anything. When she gave him a quick half-smile and said softly, “Tha’s good – I’m glad,” he knew he’d said the wrong thing.

He nodded and clamped his mouth shut, determined to let the remaining kilometers pass as quietly as she wanted them to.

“So,” she began hesitantly, “you seein’ anybody?”

What the fuck did she mean by that? And why would it matter anyway?

“No,” he answered slowly, making a conscious effort to soften the hard line of his brow. He found himself wanting to know the same of her for some reason, but kept his mouth closed. If she wanted him to know, she’d tell him.

And when she did – “Me neither” – he couldn’t stop from shooting a questioning look in her direction.

“What about…?”

It was obvious what he was referring to, but he still glanced in the baby’s direction, catching her shift in her slumber before returning his focus to the road. 

“Haven’t seen ‘im in a few years,” she said after a few moments and he found himself inwardly seething at the asshole he’d never met that obviously walked out on his family – on _Jen_ , on the baby. 

“What ‘appened?” he bit out, forgetting his rule to stop prying into her private life and mind his own business. If this bastard’d hurt her – if this guy had put her through the same ten kinds of hell that he had – new leaf or not, he’d strangle him if they ever crossed – 

“Wace.” And there was something in the way she said his name, something about her voice that made his thoughts stop in their tracks, that made him a little afraid. “She has your eyes.”

His entire body spasmed and he barely had the presence of mind to keep the car steady until he could stop. “What the _fuck_?!” he spat out, unaware and uncaring of the heat in his voice. He knew she was worried about waking her little girl, but could barely supress the demand when he repeated, “What the fuck does that mean, Jen?”

“I’m sorry, Wace,” she whispered, straining to find some source of strength. “I didn’t know until…until after. And I didn’t know…I’m sorry, I didn’t think…”

He’d laid off the gas, coasting, not trusting his foot to be steady on the brake until the tires hit the gravel on the shoulder of the road. He had to remind himself to put the car into park and his hands were shaking on the gear shift. “Jen,” he said, forcing his words to be strong, not to tremble. She didn’t look at him and that stung, but he knew she was listening. “Jen, are you – are you tellin’ me that – ” he nearly choked on the taste of bile as it rushed into his throat and he already knew the answer to his question, “that…that’s my-my _daughter_?”

He knew she said ‘yes’ but could barely hear her voice – his heart had somehow moved between his ears and was beating so hard it was blurring his vision. He was able to focus on the tail end of her words – “…two months after I moved to Canberra” – and his thought immediately went to the probable timing of her pregnancy. Why? Of all the times…why _that_ one?

“And you were just gonna…not tell me?” he choked out. “ _Ever_?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, having no idea how precious little good those words were doing at the moment. “I didn’t think you’d want…I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t think.”

Think he’d want what? A child? A family, more responsibility? No, he couldn’t say that he’d ever really thought of it before that moment, but that didn’t change the fact that he had one – that it already existed. And if he’d learned anything from his father that was worth holding onto it was that you didn’t just walk out on your responsibilities. He hadn’t exactly done that, but by keeping it from him, by not giving him a chance to prove himself, by not _wanting_ him to prove himself, she’d turned him into something like his mother – and _damnit_ she had to know what that would’ve done to him.

He blew a harsh burst of air through his nose and focused on quelling the tremor coursing through his body. He heard a rustle of clothing and a plaintive cry and screwed his eyes shut at the soft, “Mummy?” that came from the back seat.

“Hey, baby,” Jen offered quietly, the smile in her voice forced. 

He felt his stomach jump at the affectionate term and remembered a time when it was reserved for him. 

“Mummy, where are we?”

He watched from the corner of his eye as Jen wiped her cheeks off and smiled shakily at her – his… _their_ \- daughter. “We’re going to a motel, baby. The car’s messed up so…so we’re going to a motel until it gets fixed, okay?”

The little girl nodded sleepily and wriggled herself into comfort within the straps of her carseat. Wace wondered just exactly how old she was, but couldn’t bring himself to ask the answer. Regardless of the situation, it felt ludicrous – like something he should already know, the age of his own child. Instead he asked, “What’ve ya told ‘er about me?” not sure that he wanted to hear the truth.

Her answer hurt him more, he thought, that if the little girl had been given all the details. “I…I ‘aven’t, really. She’s…she’s asked and I never really knew what to tell ‘er. I mostly just told ‘er that you…you couldn’t be with us.”

Well, that was that. Wace didn’t exist to her, to…Tessa. He repeated the name in his head several times, vowing to remember it, along with every detail of her soft face, every nuance of her delicate motions – the way she’d balled her hands into fists when Jen had propped her up against her shoulder, the soft sigh she let loose when she gave herself back over to sleep, the way she’d smiled, still asleep, as her mother had put her back into the car seat. 

He was sure that was all he’d ever get.

***

“Didn’t see ya this mornin’, Sleepin’ Beauty. Where were you off to?”

Coppa’s easy tone and sleepy smile was almost enough to calm him. Almost. He started to tell him – everything – but just shook his head, mumbling “Later,” before grabbing his tool kit and trudging toward his crew.

The men, all forty-eight of them, worked in tandem to build higher the walls that would soon house an elaborate Methodist church. Wace had never cared much for organized religion, but it was his first major project – he couldn’t wait to attend the innaugural Sunday service. Sitting in the back, of course.

Besides worshipping, some time in the last few years, the people of Erskineville had begun to care about their health and it had given the construction industry plenty to work on. The next project for some of them, if they were lucky, was to renovate an old warehouse on the eastern side of town, turn it into a gym.

By lunchtime, there was no avoiding it. He knew Coppa wouldn’t press him, but it wasn’t like he could keep a secret like this and if he were going to tell anyone, it’d be Copp. If only he’d actually been thinking about what he was going to say instead of using every ounce of energy he had to push this morning’s revelation from his mind. 

“How’s your crew comin’ along?” he asked lightly, more interested in stalling for time than an actual answer.

“Better’n yesterday, still behind, though. Yours?”

Wace nodded. “We’re good.”

Coppa had a sixth sense about him when it came to giving people time, space, so Wace wasn’t surprised when they were halfway through their second sandwich a piece and he still hadn’t said anything. Thinking he’d need to save the food as a distraction, he brought his turkey and cheese away from his mouth and cleared his throat. “Saw Jen this mornin’,” he said, trying to affect casualness, but failing horriby and he knew it.

Coppa did him the courtesy of not dropping the can of cola he held in his left hand. He waited a few beats then, “Yeah?”

Wace could only nod and let Coppa fumble for something to carry on the conversation with. “Well, did she…I mean, was she okay? What did she want?”

“She was on ‘er way ta Brisbane – car broke down real early.”

Coppa gave a noncommital grunt and Wace continued on. “Took ‘er to a motel then got the car over ta Nick’s.”

“How long’s she in town for?”

“Tomorrow, day after maybe. She’s got a kid, a little girl,” he added quickly, tilting his head slightly to catch Coppa’s expression in his peripheral vision.

He didn’t disappoint. This time, the can fell from his hand and, the normally unflappable Daniel Copeland had to fumble it around in the air to catch it. He set the half-empty can on the brick wall they were both perched upon and wiped the liquid on his stained jeans. His mouth worked around syllables, but he wasn’t able to come out with anything. Wace knew the feeling.

“She’s almost four.”

“Four?” he asked and Wace could tell he was adding things up in his head. “Wace, is she…”

“Yeah.”

He turned to face him then and Coppa’s mouth snapped shut. He focused on a stack of cement bags twenty yards in front of him, unable to come up with any sort of elaboration on the topic. 

“Jesus _fuck_ \- I dunno what ta tell ya, mate,” Coppa breathed heavily. “How’re ya takin’ it?”

“How the fuck d’ya _think_ I’m takin’ it?” Wace snapped.

“There’s gotta be an explanation.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“ _No_ , but…she prob’ly had ‘er reasons, Wace,” he supplied, feeling the need to somehow defend Jen’s actions, no matter how much they baffled him at the moment.

“S’irrelevant. She had my fuckin’ kid and never told me, Copp.”

Coppa took a deep breath and shook his head. “Listen, I’m gonna tell ya this because I love ya like you were my own brother,” he started, ignoring Wace’s indignant snort that signaled he knew what was coming next, “Jen prob’ly did the best she knew how ta do. The last she ‘eard of you, you’d just drove your fuckin’ car into a train tressel and –” 

“Okay, okay – I don’ need it all spelled out again.”

“Well maybe you _do_. Can’t imagine it’s a picnic ta hear all this right now, but you gotta know that she did the best that she could.”

“And how the _fuck_ do you know _that_?”

“B’cause I know _Jen_. ‘Less ya forget, she was _my_ friend, too – and a right good one at that.”

He could think of nothing to say in reply – he wasn’t in the mood for agreement just yet, but he felt his emotions start to shift.

“Look, Wace,” Coppa said quietly, leaning over a bit a letting the weight of his words hang heavy between them, “you’re not mad – you’re _hurt_ …and that don’ just go away at the snap of a finger.”

“I don’t need this, Copp – I don’… _need_ it. Not right now. I mean, things’re…”

Coppa leaned forward, waiting for him to finish, but when he didn’t, he prompted, “They’re what?”

Wace shook his head, unable to articulate an answer that would make any sense. “I dun _no_ , but…they’re workin’ for the first time since I can remember. Anything else’ll fuck it all up.”

“Think you’re not givin’ y’self enough credit, mate,” Coppa said quietly.

Wace pushed a sardonic laugh from his nose. “Don’ think I have any due.”

“Ya kiddin’ me?” Coppa asked seriously. “Look at yourself – you’ve cleaned up, got a good job, saved some money…got the best mates a bloke could ask for,” he added with a lopsided grin.

Wace couldn’t find any humor in that at the moment, only truth. He shook his head, staring at the crust from his unfinished sandwich he’d dropped to the ground between his boots. “Took me four years, though.”

“Yeah, well, you were startin’ pretty deep in the red.”

Smiling a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Wace turned to face his friend, but said nothing.

“Why don’cha give it a go? Nothin’ ta lose.”

“’Cept ev’rything.”

“ _Nah_ \- job’ll still be here, money, _def_ initely those mates I was tellin’ ya about earlier.”

“But I don’ even know what she wants.”

“Well, whadda _you_ want? S’always a good startin’ point.”

“I dunno…”

“You sure ‘bout that?”

Wace didn’t answer immediately – he gave himself a few moments to roll the events of the morning around in his head. A faint smile came to his lips as he whispered, “She’s beautiful.”

“Been sayin’ _that_ for years,” Coppa replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, before adding, “ _much_ t’your chagrin.”

“No,” Wace said quickly, “no, I mean – Jen, yeah, she’s…” he blew out a breath before continuing, “fuck, she’s so pretty it hurts sometimes – tha’s never changed, but…no, the baby. She’s gorgeous.”

“What’s ‘er name?”

Wace felt the corners of his eyes soften and the barest of smiles graced his lips. He liked the way her name rolled off his tongue. “Teresa. She calls ‘er ‘Tessa’ for short.” He sat up a little straighter, doing his best to keep his chest from expanding. He knew he didn’t have any reason to brag on her, didn’t even know the kid yet, but…“Jen said she’s got my eyes. I dunno, she’s got a _mass_ of curly hair on ‘er head, just like Jen, but…well, yeah,” he added shyly, “I guess she kinda favors me a bit.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. Tall, too. I mean, I _think_. Dunno how most kids’re supposed ta be – never really noticed before.”

“Yeah, but this one’s diff’rent.”

Wace could only grunt in agreement.

“Can’t let that get away, mate,” Coppa breathed heavily. “Maybe…yeah, maybe Jen’s not ready, but ya gotta at least try. I know you – you’ll hate yourself if ya don’t and _then_ you’ll lose ev’rything.”

“All right, you mongrels – back ta work!”

The harsh shout from their foreman – Stanley – jolted them from their conversation. They both stood, brushing the crumbs from their trouser legs and finishing the last of their drinks. 

“When’d you get so fuckin’ philosophical?” Wace badgered as he snapped the lid closed on his lunch pail.

Coppa wiped his brow with a dirty bandana and returned it into his back pocket. He shrugged. “Dunno. Must be the heat.”

***

It was dark by the time he reached the motel. Taking a shower, washing the sweat and sawdust away, it was near torture in the minutes it took away from standing next to her.

But now that he was there, he had no idea what to do, what to say, _if_ he should tell her what he’d been thinking about the last seven hours. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit that he was afraid – afraid of what she’d say, of the expressions that would automatically fall on her face, of the fact that the only reason she’d even spoken to him to begin with was because there was no one else to call. She’d called Trunny, not knowing he would be there. If he hadn’t answered, had gone to visit Barky that weekend – 

“What are you thinkin’?”

He’d barely heard her and felt his heart skip at what he was going to say. What did she _want_ him to say? “Not much,” he answered quietly. “Mostly tryin’ ta get my head around it all.”

He was staring at the cracked concrete, but he could feel her presence in front of him, the way that, even with his eyes closed, he could tell if someone had a hand hovering over his face. It burned in a way he couldn’t describe in words.

There was a line of ants marching across the sidewalk and if he didn’t tell her everything - _everything_ \- soon, he was going to implode and any trace of his existence would be wiped off the planet. He was sure of it. He looked up, taking in the highlighted silhouette of her body a few feet away from him. “After you left, I tried killin’ m’self. Wasn’t your fault, just…ev’rything. Got drunk, drove my car into a bridge.”

His ears and neck felt hot like the tip of his cigarette and he was thankful to be standing in the dark. 

“Didn’t work,” he continued, needing to see this exercise in self-flagellation to an end, “but I stayed in the hospital for a while. After I woke up, things were…well, they were diff’rent. Went ta Queensland with Bark, quit the bottle, made a new life.”

He couldn’t pull his eyes away from her. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, that he never stopped, that he’d never forgive himself for hurting her and the thought of never seeing her again, of not being able to apologize, had nearly killed him. 

“I’m diff’rent now, Jenny,” was what he said instead, feeling it wholly inadequate for what he needed to voice. “I dunno…I just thought you should know,” he finished lamely, knowing he’d ruined any chance at redemption before he’d actually needed it.

He didn’t want forgiveness – just for her to hear that it – that _she_ – hadn’t been nothing to him.

And when she said “not that different,” he wouldn’t deny that he didn’t have it coming, wouldn’t deny that it still hurt. 

“You were always a good man. You still are.”

It was nice of her to say – not quite the truth, they both knew that – but it was made less of a lie because it was coming from her. He knew what she’d believed about him.

“I’m sorry, Wace.”

It rocked him and he felt a vacuum close in on his brain. He wondered if she could tell how much it hurt him to hear her say that.

“I’m sorry I left…and sorry I didn’t tell you about Tessa.”

He hadn’t realized until that point, when the feeling slipped away, how _angry_ he’d been that she’d done that – robbed him of the chance to be a better father than the only one he’d known. And even if he never touched her again, never felt her soft strands of hair beneath his fingertips, the tremble low in her stomach when she breathed his name, he couldn’t take this chance he’d been given and just throw it away.

“So…” he started, floundering for the courage to push out the words, “whadda we do now?”

He watched her face, eyes wide with…what? Fear? Worry? He had no idea – he’d lost any ability to read her moods on a morning full of bottles and pain.

“I have a daughter,” he pressed on. “I can’t just…forget that, ignore it.” 

There were seconds that stretched on for a lifetime before she said, “I don’t want you to.”

What did that mean?

“I didn’t really have anywhere in particular I was headed in Brisbane. I could – I could move back ‘ere.”

He didn’t know what to make of that – what she really meant by offering to stay. There was nothing for her here – just painful recollections of four years wasted and…him. He flipped his cigarette on the ground and felt himself move forward in a haze of heat and humidity. He wanted her – so bad he could feel it clearly, like the memory of the steering wheel beneath his fingers and the way he’d wanted so bad to turn it but something had frozen every muscle in his body.

“You sure that’s somethin’ you could do?” he asked, uncertain of what he wanted her to answer, of what he’d do if she said ‘no.’ 

He must’ve lost some amount of time to a vortex, a black hole that steals memories because the next thing he knew, he was pressed against her, the pads of his fingers touching her skin and _God_ it was just as soft as he remembered it. He hadn’t meant to get so close. She hadn’t done anything to let him know that was what she’d wanted, that she was okay with that. But then, she was looking up at him in that way she always had and she was telling him ‘yes’ and he knew that if he didn’t get away, if he didn’t move in the next three – hell, two – seconds, he’d never be able to let her go. 

He looked up at the sound of his name and saw that she’d claimed the space between them that he’d just given up. “Jenny,” he breathed, wanting nothing more than to tell her that this couldn’t happen – that she’d have to be the one to stop it because he wasn’t strong enough.

But he couldn’t say it and her mouth was on his and for a half-moment, his brain short-circuited into thinking that maybe this was okay, that she wanted it too. Then his hands were in her hair, cradling the curve of her skull that felt just the way he knew it would. Her moan sang deep into his gut and he shuddered when she placed her hand _right there_ , right where he’d felt it.

And it was like a rebirth, like a waking yawn of something fallen long dormant within him. He hadn’t so much as looked at a woman in Queensland. Women had always come with drinking and drinking came with nights he couldn’t remember or spent the next night trying to forget. He hadn’t been interested in anything but putting his life back together and he’d never liked the way he felt in the morning when he was the only thing left in bed. He didn’t want to do that to anyone else, not anymore.

The pulse in her neck jumped under his tongue and he hoped she could feel the heat he was radiating when he pressed himself against her. She needed to know that she still did that to him. Her back was sweating with the night’s humidity and as he skimmed his hands along her skin, he felt the goosebumps rise in anticipation. _He_ could still do that to _her_.

He smiled into her hair as he reached for her bra clasp, emboldened by her reaction to him. He could still do this – he could give this to her, make her remember the way it had been before – before he’d hurt her, before she’d made herself stop loving him. 

He didn’t even hear the baby, but when she jerked away and his world came crashing back to reality, her cries were loud and clear. While Jen was inside, he wandered off the sidewalk, into the darkness where it was cool and he could focus enough to put two thoughts together. Before he managed to figure out the picture they formed, he heard her step out of the room.

“Jenny,” he said quietly, needing to be honest with her in a way his old sense of self-preservation never would have allowed, “if you stay…I don’t think I can stay away from you.”

There. He’d done it, laid himself on his sword and the only thing he felt for sure was that he could’ve never been a warrior – he was too weak. In spite of that, he forced himself to turn, to look her in the eyes when she told him ‘no.’ “You need to know that before you make your decision,” he added, continuing shakily amid her silence. “If you don’t want that and you…you still want Tessa to see me, I…well, I’ll drive up to Brisbane ev’ry now an’ then. You won’t hafta worry about – ”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, I don’t want you to drive to Brisbane.”

He was dumbfounded. How could he have read things so wrongly? The way she’d talked with him about the baby, he’d thought…at least…even when he _knew_ \- 

“I don’t want you to stay away from me. Wace, I know – I know it wasn’t…easy. I know it won’t be easy if we try this again, but…”

She paused and he couldn’t make his mouth form a single word. It didn’t matter, because she started again, syllables halting in a way that reflecting his own anxiety, his own desire. “If you think you can…if you wanna…I just…I can’t stop lovin’ you, Wace. I dunno, I dunno if that’s wrong, or if – ”

He couldn’t take anymore, _wouldn’t_ stop himself because if she needed some kind of declaration, some kind of message that he felt the same way, he had to give it to her in the only way he knew how. His kiss was hard, had to be to hold even a fraction of what he needed it to mean. He pried his mouth away from hers but held her close, nose brushing against hers as he whispered, “God, Jenny…didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

It came out with more emotion than he’d intended but he forgot how to be embarrassed when she sobbed against his neck. 

“I’m sorry, Wace – so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, Jenny.” He moved his head, nuzzling against her cheek before breathing into her ear, “I love you.”

He’d never felt those words so strongly as in that moment he said them and he knew it was the same for her when she echoed them back. He dipped his mouth onto hers, pressing his lips gently, then pulling away when her hands gripped at his sides.

“Jenny,” he said quietly, voice trembling as it struggled against what he knew he had to say, “maybe we shouldn’t…rush this.” He swallowed and forced himself to continue. “Maybe we oughtta…take it slow.” 

He could see that he’d hurt her, heard it in her voice when she asked, “Whaddya mean?”

“It’s not that I don’t want ya, Jenny,” he said quickly, fighting to find the strength to push the words out. “Just…we got a lot to think about right now, a lotta shit ta work through.” He nearly grimaced at the choice of descriptor. “There’s more than just us this time around,” he finished quietly, eyes softening as they landed on the sleeping form on the bed.

“You’re right,” she said finally, smiling at him in a way that told him he’d done the right thing, that she really did agree.

Before he could stop himself, he brushed his lips against hers, fingers trailing the shell of her ear as he pulled away. “G’night, Jenny.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, he knew he’d see her in the morning. The walk back to his car felt longer than it should have, but it gave the night air a chance to cool his flaming skin. He climbed inside, fired up the engine and pulled away with his hand fluttering out the window. He watched her in the mirror until the darkness stole her away.

The ride back to the house took twenty minutes, but the only thing he could remember was heaving a nearly full pack of cigarettes out the window. Coppa was on the couch watching the evening news when he entered the living room. 

“’Ey, mate,” he said as he leaned forward to mute the television. “How’d it go?”

Wace tossed him the car keys. “Lemme buy you a beer some time?”

“What for?” 

“A thank you for pullin’ my head outta my ass,” he grinned. 

Coppa returned the smile and deposited the keys into an empty ashtray on the coffee table. “Nah,” he said easily, “Jus’ don’t fuck it up this time an’ we’ll call it even.”


End file.
